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Friday, April 8, 2011

Okay, technically 26 weeks 4 days. I'm like a little kid anticipating their next birthday: once mid-week passes, I mentally move on to the next week, so when I actually DO hit 27 weeks it will be a bit of a letdown.

Third trimester in either three or ten days, you choose. Pregnancy is dumb and doctors are dumb and apparently no one has agreed on an "official" start gestation for the three trimesters, except they're all pretty sure you're pregnant two weeks before you're actually pregnant. Other than that, you're in your second trimester at 12 weeks...or 13w3d...or 14 weeks. It depends on how you calculate the trimesters, and every book, iPhone app, doctor, and website uses a different method (quick lesson: here). So at either 27 weeks or 28 weeks I'll be starting third tri.

In terms of how I'm feeling right now as I wind up the second third of the pregnancy...so far so good! Still no stretch marks, no swelling, no super uncomfortableness. The belly is starting to get in the way of bending over and shaving my legs. Every once in a while I have some pain around the ribs as those suckers bend to the will of the uterus. And occasionally I get combat boot vag syndrome, which is when it feels like someone kicked you in the vagina with a steel-toed boot. Neither of those are constant or that bothersome, though. I'm trying to enjoy this period of relative comfort before the child takes up a full third of my body. Even though the kid is enormous (remember that 76th percentile number?) my fundal height is still on track for 26 weeks, so at least my belly isn't enormous to match. Although it is quite large, and I'm sure any day now I'm going to get the oh-so-helpful comments of "When are you due? JULY? OMG, I thought you were going to say like a week! Are you sure it's not triplets??"

In the following picture, please note the poor toilet paper roll, who hasn't had an official home since I accidentally threw away the rod part of the holder a year ago. You'd think one might try to get that replaced at some point, but hells no. I like never knowing exactly where the toilet paper is going to be, especially in the middle of the night when I don't want to turn on a light while I pee to prevent myself from fully waking up. Feeling around the floor and counter and bathtub in case it got knocked in is fun! An adventure every night!

But it's the only thing that keeps my boobs from melting into my stomach in some shirts, so in this case leash > looking fat. TER. Looking fatter.

Then I remembered that our bathroom always has weird lighting and you can't white balance on a phone so I took these at work later. But I left the above picture so you could all "enjoy" my "hilarious" toilet paper story.

I was going to crop this one but thanks to perspective I look smaller than the sink, which makes me feel not giant, so I left it.

Really all these pictures are because I made an actual effort to look cute today and I want this fact documented. SEE, NOT A SLOB*.

I feel for you with the toilet paper. My husband insists on sticking it on the very high windowsill behind the toilet right before bed every night, and (if I am lucky enough to figure out where it is) I am incapable of reaching it during the middle-of-the-night pee trips.